


pillowtalk (my enemy, my ally)

by geralehane



Series: clexa playlist collection [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Songfic, kinda but not fully a songfic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: She keeps telling herself she doesn't like Lexa. She doesn't like her attitude and she doesn't think their personalities will ever stop clashing. Lexa's uptight and standoffish and the way she sips scotch is too smug for Clarke's liking.So, no. She does not like this girl. Not as a friend, not as an acquaintance, and definitely, God, definitely not as anything romantic. However, she might be weirdly into Lexa's bed. And her cotton sheets. And soft pillows. The mattress is to die for. She's not to blame for constantly falling in it, really. It's memory foam.And since she constantly takes up the space in Lexa's bed, she figures it's only fair she lets the owner fuck her every once in a while.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i pick a song and write whatever comes to mind when i listen to it. and you get to read the end result! i'm really excited about this and really want to hear your thoughts! and yes you can definitely suggest songs for me to write to, and if a suggested song strikes a chord with me i will absolutely add it to this series. 
> 
> so, without further ado, let me present to you: clarke's denial set to corey gray - pillow talk (acoustic cover).
> 
> check out [my website](http://geralehane.com/) for more of my works!
> 
> and follow me on:   
> [tumblr](http://geralehane.tumblr.com/)   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/thegeralehane)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/thegeralehane)
> 
> enjoy your read!

 

She keeps telling herself she doesn't like Lexa. She doesn't like her attitude and she doesn't think their personalities will ever stop clashing. Lexa's uptight and standoffish and the way she sips scotch is too smug for Clarke's liking. 

 

So, no. She does not like this girl. Not as a friend, not as an acquaintance, and definitely, _God_ , definitely not as anything romantic. However, she might be weirdly into Lexa's bed. And her cotton sheets. And soft pillows. The mattress is to die for. She's not to blame for constantly falling in it, really. It's memory foam. 

 

And since she constantly takes up the space in Lexa's bed, she figures it's only fair she lets the owner fuck her every once in a while. 

 

That's the lousy excuse Clarke decides to go with this time, when she wakes up next to a gently snoring Lexa. 

 

This is the second time this week.

 

She really, really doesn't want to count how many times it has been this month, because counting leads to remembering and remembering leads to feeling _things_ , and she's already late for classes. And no, she can't miss any more if she still wants to be a doctor. 

 

She has trouble finding her panties, just like the last time she spent the night. Lexa still hasn't given them back, and Clarke hasn't asked. Asking would be acknowledging, and acknowledging would be admitting, and she doesn't have time for that right now. She's staring residency next year. And she doesn't - she _doesn’t_ like her like that. 

 

She really needs to leave if she wants to make it to her apartment before classes start. One last look at Lexa almost makes her reconsider. In her defense, Lexa stretched and turned in her sleep and sheets slid down her stomach and- 

 

Yup, she definitely doesn't like her. Lexa's well-defined abs and her current nakedness has absolutely no effect on her whatsoever. It's all about the bed, baby. She's longing for that mattress and sheets and pillows and wow she can't even fool herself anymore. 

 

Lexa stirs again, and Clarke struggles not to trail her eyes over her naked form. 

 

She fails. 

 

The door closes with a soft click, and Clarke misses Lexa staring at the spot where she stood mere seconds ago. 

 

_This has to stop._

 

//

 

Clarke's always been a spectacular liar, and it certainly has its perks. The only real downside to this is her inability to be honest with her own self. 

 

Not only does she continue to go with whatever it is she's doing with Lexa: she actively seeks her out the very next day. Night. Whatever. She's drunk and Lexa's infuriating and her nostrils are unfairly sexy when they flare. 

 

"No, Clarke." Lexa's way too mean for lips like that. Her ever-present soft pout doesn't go with her cold glare. "You're drunk." 

 

Clarke only nods. She knows she's drunk. She would have never showed up at Lexa's place unannounced if she weren't. She would have never kicked at her door until Lexa threw it open, angry confusion on her face that quickly morphed into concern. She would have never jumped at her clumsily, sending them both to the floor and not giving Lexa a chance to say anything before thrusting her tongue down her throat. 

 

God, none of this is okay, yet here they are. 

 

"You're drunk," Lexa repeats. She's quiet and warm and spinning. The whole room is spinning, and it never means anything good. 

 

Lexa spends the night helping Clarke to the bathroom and back, and she lets her sleep in her bed. Clarke doesn't know if it's because she's shitfaced or if there is some other factor at play, but the bed she is supposedly in love with doesn't seem all that great anymore. 

 

(The other factor at play sleeps on the couch that night - sits, really, checking up on Clarke every half an hour.) 

 

But she doesn't - she can't like her. 

 

// 

 

"You'll be late." 

 

"I called in sick." 

 

Lexa calls in sick twice a month. Clarke thinks if she weren't the co-owner she would be unemployed by now. It's not really a good basis for a relationship - consuming each other's time and mind and bodies, is it? 

 

_Relationship?_

 

But Lexa's close and leaning in and soon Clarke forgets about the thought. Forgets about anything but Lexa, on her, between her legs, eyes hooded and dark. 

 

"Harder," she keens, arching her body into Lexa's greedy hands.

 

  _Slower_ , she thinks when Lexa climbs up, leisurely dropping kisses on her stomach and chest and waiting lips, letting her taste herself. 

 

It's Friday. It's three days in bed ahead of them. 

 

//

 

The world shrinks to this room and these sheets. 

 

"Clarke." Her name on Lexa's lips sounds better than any moan, any scream, any whimper and grunt she's heard from all of her exes combined. It's a dangerous thought, but Lexa calls for her again, quiet but messy, and she recklessly dives in, wanting to hear it again and again and again.

 

Lexa freezes for one long, glorious second. Then, she crumbles, and Clarke is left marveling at the pieces she's holding in her arms. It truly is a wonder. She is capable of reducing this woman - this strong, confident, hardened woman - to a pile of gasps and whimpers and sloppy, grateful kisses. 

 

"Clarke," she hears again, this time low and faded. Lexa is laid out before her, body still trembling and her cunt still pulsing around her fingers. "Come here." 

 

 _Come here._ The words have no place in a one-night stand setting. But it's not a one-night stand anymore, is it? 

 

 _Come here_ is tired bliss and afterglow and slow kisses and fingers tracing skin. _Come here_ is soft eyes and soft lips and soft whispers in the quiet of the night and holding each other close when falling asleep. _Come here_ is waking up together and doing it all over again. Lexa shouldn't be saying these words. Clarke shouldn't be listening to them. But this room and this bed don't care and so she surrenders. _It’s only for tonight,_ she used to tell herself at first. _I'm too tired to go home._

 

She's not so sure now. 

 

//

 

Their phones are dead and they are too busy to charge them. 

 

"Fuck," she moans when Lexa pushes into her, a toy she's wearing just a touch bigger than what Clarke is used to. Lexa’s gaze has never been this hungry before. "Slower?" she asks in a husky whisper. Her hips stall. Clarke scratches at them, impatient, and her mouth finds Lexa's in a harsh kiss before she replies.

 

"Don't stop." She's clinging to Lexa with her whole body. Legs spread and entwined around her waist, hands clutching her back and squeezing at her ass, wordlessly begging _deeper, right there, fuck, Lexa, please_. 

 

Lexa gets it. 

 

The stretch burns and Clarke isn't sure she can take it but she still wants more. Lexa stares at her the entire time she's pushing, deliberately slow. Delicious. Her pace is maddening and perfect at the same time. Clarke can't stop moaning by the time Lexa's fully sheathed inside her. She's so deep Clarke is almost sure she can come from this simple feeling of being full to the brim. Her cunt is clenching so hard Lexa can feel it, and she stares at her with something akin to wonderment in her eyes. 

 

“Did you...” 

 

“Not... not yet.” Close. 

 

She doesn't know if she wants Lexa to be fast or slow. She wants everything at once, and it's overwhelming. It's almost too much; Lexa inside her, on her, with her weight pressing her into the mattress. Almost smothering. But Lexa gets it. Lexa always fucking gets it and that's the whole problem. 

 

Lexa's first thrusts are tentative. She's rolling her hips into Clarke with precision that has her desperately grasping at her shoulders. It's not enough at first, but then Lexa's thrusts become sharper, deeper; she slams into her, but keeps the pace steady and slow. And the whole time she's staring at Clarke and her blown pupils make her eyes look black and her hand finds Clarke's to entwine their fingers and-

 

Clarke's first orgasm takes her completely by surprise. She was getting there, yes, climbing higher and higher, but then suddenly the earth tips and she's tumbling over the edge, falling and falling and falling under Lexa's soft gaze. She knows she's crying out, moaning something incomprehensible until it all clears and the only word that remains is- 

 

“Lexa!” 

 

//

 

“You passed out.” 

 

“Sorry. Gimme a second and then I'll fuck your brains out.” 

 

She hears Lexa chuckle at her mumbling. Feels it reverberate through her chest that Clarke is resting her head on. “Sure. You can even have two.” 

 

Lexa gently coaxes her back to sleep with her fingers trailing down her spine and cooing whispers in her hair. The bed is cozy and marvelous and she loves it and maybe the owner is kinda okay, too. Maybe. 

 

She'll make her come when they wake up. This isn't cuddling. This isn't afterglow. They're... recharging. Yes. Then, it'll be all about sex again. 

 

They recharge the whole night and when it's time to wake, they drift in and out of consciousness, trading slow kisses and breaths. 

 

// 

 

“I need a shower.” 

 

“ _We_ need a shower.” 

 

“Yeah. You stink.” 

 

“Not what you were saying last night.” 

 

“Ha, you played yourself. I wasn't capable of words last night.” Sounds more like Clarke played herself instead, but she doesn't care. They finally wake up just when the sun is about to set, and she's okay with never leaving this bed. Lexa's hair is glowing gold in the light. Like a halo. A messy, tousled halo. Clarke smooths it under hot water, rubbing shampoo and feeling the silkiness between her fingers. 

 

“I like your hair.” She _loves_ her hair, but she can't bring herself to say the word because of implications. Would she be so apprehensive about it if there truly weren't anything to imply?

 

“Thanks. Grew it myself.” 

 

“You think you're so funny, don't you?” 

 

A shrug. A quick smile over her shoulder. “Coincidently, I'm the only one who thinks that.” Another shrug. This time, too self-depreciating for Clarke's liking, so she drops a fleeting kiss on a strong shoulder in front of her. One kiss turns into another, and soon she's covering Lexa's back in them, reveling in shaky sighs coming from the woman before her.

 

“No to shower sex,” Lexa breathes when Clarke's hand travels to her lower stomach, tracing the v cut of her hips. 

 

“Then take me to your bed.” 

 

Lexa insists on toweling her before they climb in. She claims she doesn't want to have to change sheets after because she's too lazy. Clarke caught her breathing in their shared scent from covers and pillows too many times to buy the “lazy” excuse. She still lets Lexa wrap her up in the fluffiest towel she's ever felt, and it's not so bad, not really. But it gets too calm and too... too _something_ to jump to fucking straight after that. After Lexa gently massages her skin with the towel and rains kisses down now dry skin. 

 

It feels like being taken care of. 

 

She's too sated to freak out.

 

//

 

She's a little hurt and more than a little offended when her phone isn't blowing up when she turns it on. Only one missed call from her mother, and that's it. Hurt quickly gives way to embarrassment when she reads the group chat. 

 

 **Raven:** we're thinking a movie tonight – griffin u in?

 

 **Octavia:** she's with lexa remember

 

 **Octavia:** doubt we'll see much of her this weekend 

 

 **Octavia:** lexa certainly will tho

 

 **Raven:** lmao gotcha

 

 **Raven:** happy fucking griffin 

 

She huffs, and Lexa looks up from her own phone, concerned. 

 

“Raven,” she explains. “They, uh... They figured out I was with you. At your place, I mean.” The clarification isn't necessary, and they both know it. Something in Lexa's eyes fades when she adds that, and she curses herself. 

 

“Oh. We aren't really discreet about it.” Green eyes watch her. “Should we be discreet?” 

 

Clarke shrugs. “It's no use, is it? We aren't – I mean,” she clears her throat. “We aren't stopping any time soon.” It's a seemingly harmless phrase, really. But to her, it's huge. A huge effort and a huge risk and a painful swallow of her own pride. 

 

Lexa knows. She smiles, and her eyes are alight again. “No,” she says slowly. “No, we aren't.”

 

She texts her friends back with one hand. The other is playing with Lexa's hair, scattered on her lap. 

 

 **Clarke:** I could have been kidnapped and murdered, you know. Some friends you are. 

 

 **Raven:** your heart is too healthy to give out from multiple orgasms 

 

 **Octavia:** yeah and you're the one doing the kidnapping

 

 **Octavia:** anya is furious, by the way 

 

 **Octavia:** if she didn't hate you before she does now 

 

 **Raven:** yeah she's scowling at her phone so hard i'm pretty sure she's about to smash it 

 

“What are you texting Anya?” 

 

Lexa blinks and stretches like a big, lazy cat. Clarke instinctively scratches her stomach before she settles her head back on Clarke's lap. “She asked me where I was. I told her.” 

 

Clarke watches Lexa's chestnut lock coil around her finger. “She's pissed.” 

 

Lexa shrugs. “She's always pissed.” 

 

“True.” 

 

“Raven and Octavia are at the bar, aren't they?” Lexa's ability to read between the lines both impresses and scares Clarke. 

 

“Yup.” 

 

Then, Lexa's lips are tasting her skin, and she can't concentrate on anything but her when she presses a gentle kiss to her center, already dripping. 

 

 _They are so not stopping anytime soon._  

 

Clarke makes a quick mental note to take Lexa for breakfast tomorrow before all thoughts leave her head.

 

//

 

 **Octavia:** also i didn't wanna tell u this but raven thinks this is funny so i'm gonna warn u about it to prepare u when she starts trolling u two

 

 **Octavia:** we actually did get worried and went over to lexa's place last night 

 

 **Octavia:** and u don't know this but u let us know ur alive and well and have a set of perfectly functioning lungs 

 

 **Octavia:** rae kept asking if u were being fucked or murdered 

 

 **Octavia:** she really wanted to break in and find out. i stopped her so now u owe me beer

 

 **Octavia:** man ur loud lexa's neighbors must hate u so much 


End file.
